


A Memory of Sunlight

by TheRed111



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/adventure kinda, Demon, Demon Boyfriend, F/M, Monster Boyfriend, Monster Romance, Original Character(s), Original nonhuman character - Freeform, Rape/noncon not involving the reader though, Teratophilia, Xenophilia, rape/noncon, reader self-insert - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27612334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRed111/pseuds/TheRed111
Summary: A strange house in the woods that shouldn't be there, a mysterious stranger not of this world, and always the endless sound of rain....
Relationships: Female reader/ male original character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OH BOY HERE WE GO. I'm not sure what this is, really, but I'm putting it up anyways just to see what you all think. This is already complete and a bit on the older side, so there's a lot of shit that doesn't make sense, but hey, might as well, right? The tagged noncon does not involve the reader and will occur later, but if you're sensitive to that kind of stuff I will be letting y'all know on the chapter it happens. Otherwise enjoy, and let me know what you think in the comments! I always appreciate it <3

You can’t deny it anymore. You’re fucking _lost_.

Go on a nice hike, you thought, it’s going to be nice weather this weekend and what else did you have to do, you thought. It’s not like it would start raining or anything in the middle of the day or anything, right? It wasn’t like your dumb ass might have took the wrong fork in the trail trying to sprint back to the parking lot, and the wrong fork after that, and the wrong fork after that-

So yeah. Here you are, soaking wet and miserable, prodding desperately at the infuriatingly empty screen of your phone, praying to the Gods of the Unlimited Data for a wisp of blessed internet. You didn’t think to download the map of the trails, you knew them like the back of your hand, after all, and who carried paper maps in this day and age anyways? Oh, and of course you couldn’t get a signal for a phone call, either. For all the money you spent on your phone, it might as well be a very pretty weapon to bash wolves with or something.

Should you go forward? Or back? The trees seemed equally unfamiliar and depressing no matter which way you turned. You pulled your jacket around your shoulders, breath shuddering as you tried to think of what to do. You tried to retrace your steps, trying for what seemed like the thousandth time to remember whether you went right or left at that one crossroads, whether you saw a trail marker or a particularly noticeable landmark or anything….

From what you remembered of the map of the park, all of the trails were one large circle. As long as you stayed on the path, you would find a trail marker or something eventually. Worst case scenario you would have to take shelter for a night under some tree or something, and maybe when the storm broke your phone would get a signal again. 

You decide to go forward. Your heart clenches in your stomach as you adjust the weight of the pack on your shoulders-

Something catches your eye. As you turn the corner you see something bright flickering in the trees. Your heart skips a beat, your pace quickening as you rush towards it.

“Hey! Is anyone there?” 

No one answers. As you draw closer you realize the light isn’t moving, it’s just… standing still, as far as you can tell. You ignore the aching pain in your legs, jogging as fast as you can go up the trail.

In between the trees, towards the direction of the mysterious light, you spy another fork in the trail. Unlike most of the trails, you realize, the one going in the direction of the light is much less well kept than the other side. It looks overgrown, almost indistinguishable from the forest floor as it snakes into the trees. You squint, trying to see anything past the dark wall of trees. Maybe it's your mind playing tricks on you, but you almost swear the light glows brighter when you look at it, almost as if it's beckoning you closer somehow…

The light wraps around something unnaturally straight and angular. Wait, is that… a building? You stand on your tiptoes, nearly slipping on the wet gravel underneath your feet. The rain wrapping around it hid it from your sight at first, but now that you have a good look at it… that wasn’t nature’s work you were seeing. It has to be some kind of structure.

You sprint down the overgrown trial. The light pulsed and brightens, and for the briefest of moments you found that somehow ominous, though you can't exactly say why...

* * *

It takes you longer than you thought it would to reach the building. It hadn’t seemed that far away at first, maybe fifty feet at most, but fucking hell no matter how far you walked it always seems to pull away from you. You would almost swear the forest was toying with you, if you even believed such a thing was possible in the first place. Then again, it had started raining when the forecast was clear skies and calm weather all day, so maybe some forest spirit was trolling you. As much as you want to just to give up and turn around, however, it was the only human-looking thing you had seen in hours, and you were desperate to get out of this goddamn rain. If someone came up to you and asked you to kill a man for a warm bed and a dry pair of socks, you were pretty sure you would ask him where he wanted you to dispose of the body. 

Finally, mercifully, when you turn the corner, you see the solid outline of a building in front of you. To your dismay, however, from what you can tell it seems entirely abandoned. The light you saw from the trail was extinguished, not even a lamp by the door or anything. It was too dark to really tell what kind of building it was, but judging from its size it had to be some kind of administrative building or something. There are no signs, however, of any of the rangers’ jeeps, or even a road at all connecting it to the outside world. Was this some kind of heritage site or something? You scour the dank recesses of your memory, consulting your phantom map for any trail markers that mentioned a house in the woods somewhere. A cold chill runs through you when you couldn’t remember anyone mentioning such a place,or seeing anything about buildings on your map, but you were probably misremembering. Buildings didn’t materialize out of thin air or anything, after all, especially ones that seemed as large as this one.

“Hello?” You shout, as if anyone was going to to say anything back. You kind of expect the silence, but your stomach still churns when the building remains as stubbornly dark as ever.

You stare at the building, counting to ten under your breath. If you see no signs of life when you hit ten, you would give up and leave. 

_One, two, three, four…._

Your hands are shaking. The building is an impassive colossus staring down at you, almost… watching you? You shake off that thought as soon as it comes. It was just a building, dammit! Nothing about this was creepy at all!

_Five, six, seven…_

There had to be someone here, right? The light you saw wasn’t an illusion. You saw it with your own eyes. You believe in what you see with your own eyes, and you definitely saw that-

_Eight, nine, te-_

The rest of your number disappears in a strangled gasp as a blinding, brilliant light roars to existence in front of you. You stagger backwards, spots swimming in front of your field of vision. For a moment you could see nothing at all, hands grasping uselessly at your eyes as if you could sweep the spots away.

When you finally open your eyes, you almost can't believe what you were seeing. The building isn’t some log cabin, or some drab function-over-form administrative building, but a _mansion_. It looks like something out of some romance novel, all graceful spires and indulgent, baroque architecture. It’s the kind of house you would see some reclusive Hollywood star residing in, not hidden away in the middle of a goddamned nature preserve. That’s right, you were in a fucking nature preserve! The fuck is this thing doing here?  
You stare at the stone face of an angel on top of the gate, as if she was going to suddenly come to life and cheerfully answer every one of your questions. The light that had blinded you seems to be coming from an orb in her hands. Whoever owns this house, you suppose, is not one for subtlety. 

The rest of the house, however, is still dark. No lights in the windows, no lights by the door, nothing. The gate light must be activated with some kind of motion detector, even though a nagging voice in your head was insistent that you really hadn’t been moving enough to trigger it. You shake those thoughts away, eyes sweeping over the perfectly manicured lawn and glorious, well-tended flower beds. It looks well kept, at the very least, and recently if your knowledge of gardening was anything to go by. Whoever owns the house might not be home, but maybe there’s a housekeeper or a gardener you could talk to. At the very least if someone catches you squatting on the porch they would have to call security, and maybe take you to somewhere dry and out of this _fucking rain_.

You shudder, collecting whatever courage you could muster as you walked up to the front door. This was easily the most expensive-looking house you've ever seen in person, much less knocked on the door of. Crazy rich people usually weren’t the kind of people who took kindly to strangers knocking unannounced on their door, and for a moment you hesitated-

Before you could as much as extend your arm, the door swung wide open. You stare at the open door, mouth gaping open like a fish as you struggled to formulate any kind of response. _Hello, I’m cold and wet and miserable, do you have a phone? Hey, crazy rich person, I’m not here to sell you anything, I promise-_

There was no sneering butler, no incredulous maid, no… nothing. Just a pathway so dark you couldn’t see what was inside of it. All of a sudden, you really, really wished there was an angry, ranting rich person on the other side of the door.

“Uh…” Mice were louder than the squeak that called itself your voice. “H-Hello?”

The air changes. You can't explain why, exactly, but it almost feels as if it’s heavier, as if that’s even possible. You suck it through gritted teeth, and for a moment you could have sworn you are surrounded by water for some stupid reason-

The lights in the entryway begin to blink to life. The sheer beauty of what you see is enough to make your head spin. Soft, plush couches, massive bookshelves that seemed to stretch to the ceiling, beautiful, breathtaking paintings that rival that of the old masters, but you barely notice any of it, because there’s a roaring fire in the fireplace and that is maybe the best thing you had seen in your entire life, ever. 

Your gut churns as you stare at the scene in front of you. This is wrong, deathly wrong, wrong in a way you couldn’t even describe. Nothing about this makes sense. You have no idea who owns this place, or what their intentions are. Your instincts are a dull roar in your ears, screaming _danger_ so loudly it was all you could hear. For once in your life, you listen to them.

For a moment.

As if of its own will, one of your feet slowly hovers over the threshold-

And you suddenly find yourself inside.

You blink. When you weren’t transported to the spot you had just been a second ago, you blinked again. Nothing changes. You stand in the same spot, staring at the fire, dripping all over the carpet like that was entirely what you intended to do. 

The roar in your ears was now a hurricane. You didn’t think, you just _did_. You bolt for the door, stumbling for footing on the thick carpet, breath coming in ragged gasps as you throw yourself forward-

“What the fuck are you _doing_ here?”

A voice. A man’s voice. You trip over your own boots, sprawling into a sodden heap on the floor. Fear paralyzes you, keeping you from moving even an inch. If you cry, if you move if you even breathe you know you’ll die-

There’s a brief silence, then the voice repeats itself, slower this time. “I said, what the fuck are you doing here?”

You can see his feet out of the corner of your eye. He’s wearing what looks like a bathrobe and a pair of fluffy slippers. The cold, dead eyes of the bunnies on them almost make you want to laugh, and a choking, strangled noise does escape from your lips, if that can even be called a laugh-

He sighs. There’s a shuffle of movement from above you, and you suddenly realize he’s squatting down to look at you. “I know you’re scared. I’m not hurting you unless you give me a reason to, understand?”

The cold smoothness of his words does at least convince you he’s serious, or maybe you desperately want to believe he’s serious, but either way you raise your head from the ground to look at him-

Red skin. Horns that erupt from his forehead. Bright yellow eyes. Long fangs. He stares at you, you stare at him. 

Any second now the camera crew was going to burst out from behind the bookshelf. Everyone would start clapping and laughing, and you would laugh with them. He would take off his very realistic and convincing mask and you would end up on the thumbnail of some clickbait video on Youtube. PRANKS GONE WRONG, IN THE WOODS, COPS WERE CALLED-

Nothing happened. Not a single goddamned thing. He stares at you. You stare at him.

A tail, too dextrous to be a prosthetic. Long, shiny claws. Dark scales that ripped and moved with his skin. 

Your breathing quickens. Your grip on your body loosens.You are in the air, spinning and churning and what the actual fuck is going on-

A pink bathrobe. Bunny slippers. A delicate teacup, patterned with pink flowers suspended in the air by his long, black claws. You think it smells like masala chai. 

The babbling noise escapes from your lips again. He raises a single eyebrow, which somehow only makes you do it again. You realize you must be laughing, or crying, or something in between, but you can’t really tell anymore, you’re just an observer watching the ruined wreck of your body from on high, and nothing makes sense anymore because this man is fucking whatever the fuck-

A hand wraps around your arm, roughly jolting you back to yourself. You cry out, recoiling from his grip, but he seems entirely unconcerned as he hauls you to your feet. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He growls, and you immediately follow his lead. You notice, out of the corner of your eye, the teacup… floating in the air? It’s gone in a blink before you can process the sight.

“Who. The. Fuck. Are. You.” He spits the words through gritted teeth. You are suddenly, viscerally aware of how he looms over you. This man, or whatever he is, is extremely capable of hurting you. 

You give your full name without a second thought. His brows knit together. You recoil, bracing yourself for the retaliation you can feel is coming-

The grip on your arm relaxes, if only slightly. You know you should be staring anywhere but his face, but you can’t tear your gaze away, it’s human, but only just so, and even though his hand is wrapped around your arm you can’t believe he’s real and talking and here.

“Did you bring her in, my lord?” He spits out the last two words like they leave a foul taste in his mouth. Bile churns in your stomach, your eyes finally tearing away from his face as you search the room to see who he’s talking to. There’s no one but the two of you, and you suddenly feel boneless and limp.

He responds after a short pause. “Really?” Another pause. His lips curled over his pointed fangs. “No, I didn’t mean to talk back, my lord. I wasn’t expecting this, forgive me.”

So much venom drips from his words you can almost see it in the air. It’s not directed at you, but you still instinctually pull away from him as far as you can go. 

He doesn’t seem to notice, his gaze fixed squarely on the ceiling. “If that is truly your will, it is my honor and privilege to serve it, my lord.” 

He releases your arm, seemingly unconcerned with how you scramble away from him the second you are able. For a moment you are taken aback when instead of the pink bathrobe and slipper combo you saw a second ago, he is now wearing a dark suit you swear looks vintage-

“Come with me.” He tilts his head towards a hallway you hadn’t noticed before. You shake your head, backing away as slowly as you can.

“No!” You find your voice, and hurl it at him with all the force you can muster. He seems unfazed by your assault, instead gesturing again towards the hallway.

“NO!” You’re halfway to the door. He must notice you moving, but he hasn’t done anything to stop you. His hands are in his pockets, yellow eyes narrowed as he watches you. You suddenly feel like a mouse facing down a lion, any swipe of its paw enough to end your miserable little life in an instant.

“You want to leave, then? Go ahead. Be my guest.” As if on cue, the door swings open behind you. You gasp, heart swelling as the sound of pouring rain intensifies around you.

You don’t think. Don’t feel. You just move. Your heart is a jackhammer in your chest, beating against your ribs so strong you swear it’s going to burst. You hurl yourself over the threshold with all of the strength you can muster, and for the briefest of seconds you feel the cool sensation of rain on your skin-

You’re back in the entryway. The… person in the suit is staring at you. You stare back. You turn and run without a second thought, head spinning as you leap over the threshold again-

Entryway. Person in the suit. His eyes are cold and dark when you look into them. You turn and run again.

Over and over you run through the door. Over and over you find yourself in the same spot with the same person staring at you. No matter how many times you try you can’t leave, and his expression is always the same whenever you look at it-

“LET ME OUT!” You scream after your last failed attempt. Your face is wet, and you can’t tell if its raindrops or tears that stream down your face. “LET ME OUT YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

His lips curl up at the sides and god you want to knock his teeth in. “Not up to me.”

You have never, ever been so angry in your life. You want to break, to hurt, to tear, to destroy the thing that’s keeping you from leaving. A small part of balks at the sudden rush of murderous intent that washes over you, but you don’t give a fat flying fuck. If this person has to die for your to leave, you’re going to fucking _kill_ him-

“I SAID LET ME OUT!” Your voice is hoarse and raw. You see no reaction from him, which makes you want to hurt him even more, if that was even possible. 

“Not. Up. To. Me.” He repeats, as if he was talking to some dumb child and something inside of you snaps. You hurl yourself towards him, a frenzied, animalistic howl filling the air as you swing at him with all of strength in your body. Instead of the soft mass of his stomach, however, your fists his nothing but empty air. You have only a moment to register movement behind you and you are suddenly suspended in the air, and find yourself thrown over the person in the suit’s shoulder like a sack of flour.

“That’s enough.” His voice is a low growl. “My lord does not wish to see violence in his own home.”

“YOUR LORD CAN STICK THIS HOUSE UP HIS ENTIRE ASS. PUT ME DOWN YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” 

You hear a low chuckle, which makes you remember you have legs and arms and you decide to use them. Your blows, however, seem to have all of the effect of flower petals landing on a rock face. Even when your boot catches him in the nose he doesn't as much as flinch.

“You are a guest in this house, and should behave as such.” He says above your string of profanities. “He understands this is stressful, but he implores you to remember your manners.”

“SUCK MY DICK, ASSHOLE!”

Another chuckle. He begins to walk towards the hallway, your blows becoming more frantic and frenzied the further he walks. You pull at his hair, his horns, anything you can reach, but you might be trying to stop an earthquake or a tornado for all the good it does you.

“You will be given a room. All of the amenities you need will be there. Make yourself comfortable, and avail yourself of my lord’s exceeding generosity.”

Your expletive-laden string dies on your lips as your captor stops by a door. The click of the lock opening is like the pull of a hangman’s noose. Your body goes limp, all of the strength suddenly leaving your body. Despite the abuse you just subjected him to, the person in the suit sets you down carefully. The sensation of his touch is like a swarm of ants running all over you.

“Let me out.” It’s not a demand this time, but a plea. You’re tired, so fucking tired. You just want to go home, go back to your soft bed and your warm covers where nothing can hurt you and this could all be some horrible nightmare-

His eyes are cold. Emotionless. “Not up to me.” He repeats.

It is at the moment you break into a thousand little pieces. You sink to the floor, eyes staring into nothingness, the sudden enormity of what is happening to you crashing into you. You can’t leave. You’re stuck here. There’s nothing you can do, you can’t do anything to stop it.

The person in the suit must be staring at you. You look right past him, eyes blank and listless. He stays for a few seconds, why you don’t know and you don’t care. He won’t let you leave. He won’t help you.

“I’ll see you when you wake up.” His voice is as cold as the rest of him. You don’t have the will to be angry anymore. You can’t do much of anything. Long after he leaves you stare at the door, the endless drumbeat of the rain against the window drilling itself into your head until it's the only thing you can hear…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for actually reading this... thing. I'm kind of surprised people are tbh. As always, I appreciate every single one of you!

For a moment when you wake up, you can almost believe it was a dream.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are as you shake the exhaustion from your bones. You are confused as to how you ended up on the floor, your head swimming as you try to piece together the events of the day before. You were… hiking, right? It was sunny and you were having a great time. Then… then…

The rain on your window. Suddenly everything comes back to you. 

The light. The house. The person in the suit. 

This room isn’t your room. It’s cold, sterile, alien, almost. You pinch yourself, closing your eyes and counting to ten. When you wake up, you will be back home. This is nothing. This is nothing. This is…

You open your eyes. You’re not in your room. You’re nowhere. You’re dead, you’re dying, you’re…

You stop yourself, chest heaving as you struggle to remain upright. You can't succumb to the panic, not again. Your anger got you nowhere yesterday, and your begging didn’t either. Whatever kind of fucked up situation you were in, you had to find another way to get out of it. 

What kind of situation were you in, anyway? Recalling the events of yesterday was like pushing rusty nails into your skin, but you did it anyway. The house, the person… demon in the suit, how you couldn't leave.

The lord. Who was he talking to? If the demon didn't want you here, who did?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a sharp knock on your door. You really consider telling whoever was on the other side to go fuck themselves, but sitting on your ass wasn’t going to get you answers. So you swallow the bile rising in your throat and spit out your response as fast as you can.

“Yeah?”

You aren’t surprised to hear the low rasp of the demon from the other side. “My lord requests your presence for dinner.”

Fuck. 

On the one hand, you could be royally fucked. On the other… well, you were royally fucked anyway, really. You would be super mega royally fucked, however, if you pissed off this person who seemed to have no qualms about kidnapping people. You can’t escape if you were dead, after all.

“O-Okay.”

There was a pause, and the demon continued.

“My lord also requests you change your clothes into, I quote ‘Something more feminine and becoming.’ You will find all you need the closet. If you need help with the corsets I am commanded to assist you.”

You suddenly have the urge to vomit all over the carpet. Corsets? Feminine?  _ Becoming _ ? You have never seen hide nor hair of the lord but you suddenly want to throw him into his own fireplace. 

“Ah. O-Of course.” 

The demon says nothing, and you take that to mean he’s waiting for you to change. You steel yourself, creep towards the closet door-

Oh fuck it’s worse than you could have imagined. Everything in there was so frilly you could barely make out the shape of the outfit or so skimpy even thinking about wearing it made your urge to vomit redouble. You paw your way through the racks of clothes, only growing more offensive and disgusting the deeper you search, somehow.

Finally you find something that doesn’t make you want to tear your eyeballs out looking at it. The threatened rack of corsets stares back at you, and you can’t resist flipping them off.

You slip it over your t-shirt and jeans. It’s long enough he probably won’t notice. In a way wearing them makes you feel protected, like you’re wearing a bulletproof vest under your awful dress. Your socks are still damp, but the lord was going to have to tear them from your cold, dead feet.

The demon raises an eyebrow when you open the door. You resist the childish urge to stick your tongue out at him. 

“He’s going to notice, you know.” His lips were curling upwards again. Maybe that was the closest thing he had to a smile.

You are so tired, and so done with all of this that you say the first thing that comes to your head. “Do I look like I care?”

Despite the demon’s apparent dislike of the lord, you are suddenly afraid for a moment that you might have stepped over a line somehow, The demon, however, does nothing but chuckle.

“I suppose you don’t.”

He tilts his head towards the hallway, and you follow his lead obediently. Now that your vision isn’t clouded by rage and despair you allow yourself to get a good look at him. He’s about a head and some change taller than you, the horns that crown from his head only making him look more intimidating. His tail is thick and heavy, and you don’t doubt he could snap you in half with that alone if he wanted to. His shoulders are broad, waist thin, hips oddly prominent for such a masculine body. If the silhouette of his suit is anything to go by, he's hiding some muscle under his clothing.

He hasn’t exactly been nice to you, but he's your only potential ally in this shithole. It's a long shot, but you have to try. What other options do you have?

“Is… there something I can call you?” You ask as you walk together. He stops, eyes flashing as he stares at you.

“...No.” He finally answers. You frown. Does he not want you to know his name?  
“Really? Nothing at all?” The hiss that comes from his mouth almost freezes your blood cold. 

“That’s right. Nothing at all.”

Well then. Your plans of playing nice to the demon are immediately shot to… hell, you guess. You can’t help but giggle at your own stupid pun, because what other joy do you have at this point-

“If it makes you feel better, you may call me whatever you like.” His previous annoyance is gone, replaced by a resigned sigh. Your heart leaps. Maybe there is hope after all.

“Ah. Okay. Well…” You twirl a stray lock of hair. What does one call a demon? Lucifer? Damien? Mephisto? Those all sound horribly cliche and were maybe offensive to demons… assuming he even was a demon, anyways. Your head hurts even just thinking about it, so you wave the white flag.

“I mean… do you want to be called anything in particular?”

Another pause. His eyes are narrowed as he looks at you. You swallow, your blood running cold again-

“Names have power, you know.” He sighs. “It’s not something you should ask lightly.”

You, of course, told him your full name in a fit of panic, and you don’t really have anything else to say to that, really-

“Demon is what I am, so call me that if you want.”

Demon. The word tastes strange on your lips. You’re not exactly unfamiliar with the concept, but it’s one thing to read it in a book and another to see it standing in front of you. You mouth the word with your lips again.  _ Demon. _

“Demon?”

Another pause. Another lost heartbeat.

“It’s a name for us, yes.” He turns to look at you, He looks… amused? “What gave it away? Was it the horns or the tail?”

Despite yourself, you really do stick your tongue at him this time. “The bunny slippers and your sparkling attitude, actually.”

He half smiles at you, which teases one of your own. This is good. Make him like you. Make him want to help you, even if it's in a small way.

It feels strange to call him Demon, it’s like calling yourself Human. But it’s what he asked you to call him, so… fuck it. “Mister Demon.” You add the Mister so it sounds less… awkward, you guess. “Can I ask you some questions?”

He stops again. There’s that eyebrow raise again.

“My lord will be late to dinner, so I suppose so.” He...no, Demon finally says. “But when he is ready we must leave.”

Fair enough. You’re tempted to ask how the lord could be late for dinner in his own house, but think better of it. You’ll get your chance to ask him yourself, along with a bunch of other nagging questions.

“Where are we?” 

Demon answers immediately. “The home and residence of my lord.” 

You wait for him to continue. He doesn’t. Your head suddenly begins to hurt.

“Ah… okay.” You rub your temple. “Where… is that?”

He frowns, seeming to not understand your question. You list the name of the park you were in, and when that gets no response the town. Then the country.

“We aren’t in any of those places, no.” If his expression is anything to go by, you might as well have asked him if they were in Magic Fairy Princess Land. 

You’re tempted to ask more specific questions, but you need to figure out the basics first. “Okay. Your lord. Who is he?”

There’s no mistaking the sudden blaze of rage you see in his eyes. You saw some of that anger for yourself when he shouted at you yesterday and your mouth becomes dry….

“My lord is the master of this house.” Demon replies, his voice eerily calm. “In here, his will is absolute.”

That sounds… pleasant. You hope Demon doesn’t notice you shuddering. 

The next question makes you feel ill to even think about, but you have to ask it anyway. “What does he want with me?”

That too-calm voice again. “It is not my place to discuss it. My lord will speak for himself.”

You close your eyes, racking your brain for your next question-

“My lord is ready. We must go.”

Your question wilts in your throat. From what little you know of Demon, you’re pretty sure he won’t answer any more questions you have for him. So you bottle them up in your mind, saving them for the next time you can talk to him freely.

That would have to wait, though. For now, you were going to talk to the lord.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

You knew you were going to get food. What you weren’t expecting was a veritable feast. 

It was like he was expecting to feed an army, not one woman. From end to end the table was stuffed full of food, some you know names for and some you don’t. Pastries, fish, salads, noodles, eggs, roasts, you even spy what looks like an entire roast peacock in the chaos. Despite the excess on the table, you can only see one, dainty plate that you assume is yours at one end. It would be kind of comical, if the situation wasn’t so deadly serious.

Where was the lord? You assume he would be at the end of the table, but you don’t see anyone there. Is he crouched behind that massive lobster? Did he step out to go to the bathroom? You’re half expecting him to pop out from under the table and start seal-clapping or something. 

“Your guest is here, my lord.” Demon announces, his voice dry and entirely disinterested. You scan the table for any signs of life. Nothing, save the steam off of the food, moves.

“You may be seated.” Demon gestures towards the empty chair, and you follow, your bewilderment growing when you see a distinct lack of… anyone besides the two of you, really. Demon does not sit at the table, instead hovering at your side like some kind of stuffy waiter. If you ask him to get you something, you have a feeling he would do it.

“My lord welcomes you, honored guest, and invites you to eat your fill.” Demon sounds like he would rather be… anywhere else, really. You have known him for less than a day and he was rude to you for most of it but in that moment you really, really feel him, man. 

"Uh…" Your stomach chooses the perfect moment to growl. The last time you ate was… God, it was lunch yesterday, wasn't it-

"If you require anything, the slave will get it for you." 

It takes you a second to realize who he’s talking to. Your eyes wander to Demon, who’s standing beside you as expressionless as ever. You aren’t exactly shocked to find out Demon is a slave but the thought still makes you lose your appetite all the same. Was your food made by slaves too? Your clothes? 

Demon continues speaking the words of the lord. “Enjoy the meal, my angel.”

Okay, Your appetite is officially one hundred percent gone. For third time today you really consider puking all over the lord’s property and judging by the sudden churning of your stomach your body is seriously considering it-

A smooth motion to your side. Demon is walking towards a cabinet you hadn’t noticed before. You say nothing as he pulls an ancient-looking bottle of wine out of it. He pours two glasses, one is set by your plate, the other goes to the empty chair on the other side of the table from you. You watch Demon’s head as he puts the wine down. He is looking at the chair, right about the spot a person would be if they were sitting in it.

Your traitorous stomach growls again. Demon responds by picking up a plate of food and walking swiftly in your direction. His eyes are dull and empty and your stomach churns again. Before he can reach you, you grab the first plate you can.

“That won’t be necessary, thank you.” To illustrate your point you shove a handful of what you assume is some kind of fruit plate directly in your mouth. Yes, you know you have silverware sitting right there, but you can’t be assed to care.

The fruit doesn’t taste like anything at all. Even the glue you ate as a child had more flavor. You notice that despite all of the food at the table, you can’t actually smell any of it.

Demon sets the plate down slowly, You can see his eyebrows lift as you take great pains to eat as loudly and messily as you can. 

“Thanks for the wine, by the way!” You attempt to say through your mouthful of food, but it comes out as a garbled mess. You take extra care to look at Demon, not the lord’s chair when you say this. It wouldn't do to send mixed messages after all. He doesn’t look like he understood what you said, but he hoped he got the meaning of your wide smile, at the very least.

You halfway expect to keel over from poison halfway through your meal, but nothing happens. It’s just you, Demon, and an empty chair. 

The lord doesn’t say anything for the rest of the meal, and you don’t ask him anything, either. The quiet stillness that settles over the dining room is kind of… unsettling. It feels like there’s some great, lurking beast watching you, eyes following every movement you make, crawling up and down your body like it wants to see inside of you too.

You only know the dinner is done when Demon gestures you to follow him. The tense set of his jaw and the sudden stiffness in his posture make it obvious that he’s not in the mood for small talk, so you keep quiet on the walk back to what you guess is your room now. 

The door Demon opens is not the same room you left. It has all of the same things; bed, closet, bathroom, dresser, but they are all different. You can’t say you’re shocked, but even that small piece of familiarity being taken away from you… it stings.

“I’ll see you when you wake up.” Demon opens the door for you before you can reach for it. You suddenly feel guilty, knowing in the back of your head that he is being forced to do this.

“Thank you, Mister Demon.” 

He says nothing, just watches you as you walk into not-your-room. 

As soon as the door closes, he leaves, and you are alone with nothing but your thoughts…


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been days. Or weeks. You don’t even know anymore. 

The first thing you discovered about The Shithole, as you now called it, was it is impossible to tell time in it. It boasts nearly every kind of furniture you can imagine, plus a few extra, but there are no clocks in sight.

The second, shittier thing is that it's always fucking raining. When you go to bed, it is to the pitter-patter of raindrops on not-your window. When you wake up, same thing. Always the rain, always that aggravating sound and the darkness and it is enough to make your head throb and ache.

The third thing was you and Demon and the lord… if he even counted as a person, which you refuse to do, seem to be the only people in The Shithole. There are no servants running around besides Demon, no parties, no… nothing. Just empty rooms and hallways and only the echoes of your footsteps. It was such a lonely place, made even lonelier by the constant, unceasing drum on rain on the windows. Sometimes it hits you that Demon has had only the lord for company for who-knows-how long, and you really just want to give the poor bastard a hug. If you had to be around that asshole for that long, you’d have an attitude too, you think.

The fourth thing is that your bag is missing. You had forgotten for awhile, and then you had blearily reached for your phone when you woke up out of instinct once and had gotten hit by a sudden bolt of realization instead. Demon had claimed ignorance when you asked him about it, and it had… hit you harder than you thought it would when you heard that, honestly.

The only thing you had that was really yours were the clothes you were wearing and your hiking boots. Those simple items were suddenly more precious than any gold. You only took them off to bathe, and you took them into the bathtub with you so as to not let them out of your sight. You had no doubt they would ‘mysteriously’ vanish the second you took your eyes off of them, just like everything else did in the Shithole.

Oh yeah. Fifth thing. No room in the Shithole was the same every time she visited it. Not-your-room changed whenever you left it, even if it was for just a few seconds spent stepping out in the hallway. The dining room where you ate your Required Meal with the silent and ever-more-creepy lord changed every time you visited, too. It was always things like the table being made from a different kind of wood, or the bed being a different shape, or the curtains being sheer instead of red, but it always made your stomach churn whenever you opened what should be a familiar door to see something completely new inside of it. 

Surprisingly Demon had an actual answer when you asked him about it. Kind of.

“The house is alive.” He had responded in a tone people used for talking about grocery lists or laundry detergent.

Okay. House was alive. Good to know.

“Uh.. elaborate?”

You weren’t allowed to leave your room without Demon escorting you. When you heard that, you tried your best to stay put and not make him do anything he didn’t want to do, but you weren’t going to get out of The Shithole sitting on your ass doing nothing. Besides, you tried to remind yourself, it wasn’t you doing this, it was the lord.

Demon sighed, as if he was explaining how to do addition to a very dense six-year old. “My lord’s domain has a body, and the body has a soul. It is a living thing, so it is in a constant state of change. The rooms are but one way this is reflected.”

You filed that away in your ‘useful information’ folder in your head. You looked Demon over, trying to see any signs of irritation or foul mood. He seemed okay, for the moment, but you had to be careful. Demon wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine at the best of times.

“Ah. I see.” 

You had told Demon earlier than you had wanted to get out and think and he was taking you… somewhere. As long as it wasn’t not-your-room you really didn’t care where that was.

“Mister Demon, can I ask you something?”

His only response was a soft huff and a raised eyebrow. So far, so good.

“You said you were a demon. What does that mean exactly? I don’t exactly have a lot of knowledge on the subject.” You punctuate your sentence with a hopefully not fake-sounding laugh.

He stops, what looks like a frown on his face as he gazes at you with sharp intensity. You swallow, wilting away from his bright eyes-

“What do you think a demon is?”

Fire, brimstone, summoning circles, goat heads were the first things that popped into your head. That was the more… classic, definition of a demon, though, and looked more… modern? Was that the right word? Or was vanilla more the word you were looking for?

“Um. Does bargains with people, has supernatural powers, otherworldly, kind of….” You trail off, looking for any kind of response. He’s just staring at you, lip circled in that half-smile that was becoming all too familiar.

“Well well. Not bad.”

Your face turns red. It must be because of the lack of basic human decency. You have the sudden urge to pull your hoodie over your head.

“Some of us are like that.” He continues, seemingly unaware or unconcerned of your squirming. “The powerful ones stay in our home world, mostly. It’s only the little ones that make deals with humans. The bargains feed them, keep them alive. The bigger ones feed off of humans at a distance, no bargains needed. They don’t need to come here unless…”

“Unless?” You are brave enough to put a hint of sweetness in your voice. You don’t think it will work on a demon, but hey, might as well try,

“Unless… one is summoned by a powerful sorcerer.” His tone is low. Quiet. His eyes are uncharacteristically bright as he looks at you. The air around you suddenly grows thick. Heavy. 

You push harder.

“These powerful demons… the deals they make, are they different?”

Demon nods slowly. “Extremely. One with a lesser demon might be for petty things. An enemy killed, a pittance of money gained. Greater demons offer things beyond human imagination. Things your kind can only dream of.”

“What does… what does the demon get?” If the legends were true, the price for dealing with a demon was your soul. If that was a lesser demon, though what did the Greater Demons ask of people?

“You really want to know?” He spits your name out, almost mocking in how ferocious it is. “You aren’t going to like it.”

You really know you aren’t. But you ask anyways.

“Tell me.”

Demon’s eyes narrow. “Lesser Demons take one soul as their price. Greater Demons take many.”

Oh. 

Before you can say anything, Demon continues. “All they love, all they ever will love, all who love them. Children, spouses, siblings, lovers, countries, kingdoms. That is the Demon’s Price. When their boon is spent, their soul is taken too, and all they ever could have been is taken with them.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The world seems to slow to a crawl around you. Demon was… that, wasn’t he. All of a sudden the empty house around seems even more sinister than it already was. All of the servants, the nobles in his court, the warriors who protected him.

His _family._

Demon is watching you. You can’t think of anything to say. For some reason your mind drifts to him in his stupid pink bathrobe and you just want to start laughing again-

You abruptly arrive at a door just like any other. Demon doesn’t pick up that thread of conversation, but opens the door before you have a chance to react.

“...thank you.” You whisper. You hesitate, legs suddenly boneless as you hover in front of the door. Part of you wants to invite Demon in, to keep talking when he’s in a talkative mood, but…

_Spouses, siblings, lovers. Children._

You walk into the room without another word. He leaves as soon as the door closes. You should be happy that he’s leaving, but the knot in your stomach tightens with every fading footstep…

But you aren’t here to think about him. You turn, ready to see what iteration of not-your-room you’ve been dumped into this time-

It’s bright. Warm. Like the light of the sun.

The walls are painted a bright, joyous yellow, the many lamps and candles intensifying the light in the air a thousandfold. There’s no windows, no ceaseless rain to drum into your skull, just warmth. There’s nothing in the room but a mass of pillows and blankets, and you immediately burrow your way into the center. The blanket almost feels like grass on your skin, somehow, and if you close your eyes and pretend…

You imagine you’re laying down on a grassy field. It’s a still day, no wind, but the sun is bright in the sky. 

You stay there for awhile. Your mind, once churning and toiling like the fury of a disturbed ants’ nest, is still. You just feel… nothing at all.

Unbidden, a song comes to your lips.

It was your favorite, or at least one of the many songs you could call your favorite. You had listened to it just the other day, hadn’t you? You had embarrassed yourself by humming it too loud in public, and people had stared at you, but you had just loved it so much you couldn’t stop yourself.

There’s no one around you right now, so you sing. Your voice cracks and you don’t know all of the words and you’re pretty sure you put the chorus in the wrong spot but you don’t care. Your voice gets louder and stronger, words flowing from you like water from a spring. You are weightless. Effortless.

Something tugs at your mind unbidden. All of a sudden a dark shape passes in front of your eyes…

“Are you okay?”

Demon’s voice pulls you back to reality. You scramble to your feet, blankets sloughing off of you like shedded skin. 

“Before you got here I was!” You snarled. The buzzing of the ants is back. Now that you’re here you’re reminded of where you are and why you’re here and all of the things you have to do-

“...I was just checking up on you.” You hear a shuffled sigh on the other side of the door. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Your foul mood fades a little. Now that you think of it, you are a little hungry…

“Sure… and sorry for snapping at you…”

His only response is to open the door. In his hands is a small tray. You’re surprised to see something you like actually on it, instead of the tasteless swill at the lord’s dining table. You can smell it from the opposite end of the room.

“...thank you!” You leap forward, practically pulling the tray out of his hand. If Demon had a plate full of food like this with him every time you saw him, you would actually be happy to see him.

Well, you are kind of happy to see him, anyway. He’s at least another person to talk to in this maddenly empty house, even if he’s… a demon.

He watches wordlessly as you shovel the food down your throat. It tastes even better than it smells, and you’re chowing down like a pig at a trough, but Demon’s seen your horrible table manners every night you’ve eaten at the Dining Room so he doesn’t mind. Maybe. 

“What was the song I heard, by the way?” He interjects. You freeze, mouth open in mid-chew.

Oh shit he heard you. Your cheeks burned.

“O-Oh.” You muttered. 

He sighs, but you can see the bastard smiling just a little, damn him. “Sound travels in this place, I’m afraid. I couldn’t ignore it even if I tried.”

You want to wring his neck, or maybe throw the tray at him, but then again.... 

When was the last time you talked about something that wasn’t the lord or The Shithole and demons, anyway? The buzzing in your head is turning into a dull ache.

You say the song. It’s kind of embarrassing, but you take solace in the fact that Demon probably isn’t familiar with human music.

“You know, I didn’t think you were the type.”

Maybe not. Fuck. 

“Your music is very strange.” He interjects before you can ask him how he knows all this. “All of these different pieces, all crashing into each other.” He’s leaning against the door, the most relaxed he’s looked… ever, you think.

“Really?” You’re the one to raise an eyebrow this time. “Some people have no taste, I guess.”

His eyes grow bright. “I never said it was bad.”

You smile, but then you remember the things he told you the last time you talked, and your smile fades. He’s a demon, you try to tell yourself, he’s eaten who knows how many souls and has done terrible, terrible things-

“There’s something… nice about it too. Harmonic, you humans call it.” His voice is soft. He doesn’t sound irritated or annoyed just… calm. “I don’t know how you hear it as a human, but I can see every little piece of it in my head, how they’re separated and how they work together. It’s… always an experience.”

You picture poor Demon at an electronica concert, or a thrash metal concert, or any concert that has more than one instrument, actually. You can see him in your mind’s eye, lips pursed and a frown on his face, pondering the lyrical sensibilities of _what that ass do_.

You laugh for the first time in what had to be forever.

“Something funny?” Demon remarks as he walks over to pick up your empty plate. 

You pull it away from him, pointedly ignoring his question. “If I leave it here, will you tell on me?” 

Demon’s shrug couldn’t be more half-hearted if he tried. “No.” He does not pick up the tray, instead walking back to the door.

Your heart sinks a little in spite of yourself.

“Are you… leaving?”

Demon nods. His expression darkens as his eyes drift to the door. “Yes. I was sent to check on you and feed you, nothing more.”

If you asked him, would he stay? That thought crosses your mind and you wonder why you even think of it-

“...okay.” You mutter. 

“I’ll be back to get you when I’m done.” Is the only thing he says before he leaves. 

You almost wish he would stay for just a second, but his footsteps vanish as soon as the door shuts. You listen to the silence, your gaze drifting to the empty tray and the delicious smell that still lingered in the air.

You drifted back to the grassy meadow. Only this time, it wasn’t silent. You thought you could hear the song you were singing, coming from somewhere far away. It didn’t sound quite right; the lyrics were wrong and the chorus was in a different place.

It was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard….

* * *

For the first time in weeks, the lord has something to say to you.

You always knew in the back of your head he was there, like some boogeyman prowling in the shadows, but you always shoved that information to the back of your head. As the weeks went on, the lord retreated deeper and deeper into your mind, becoming only a snippet of conversation between you and Demon, and an empty chair with nothing to say as you ate your meal. 

At least, until Demon knocked on your door as you were dozing off to sleep.

You scrambled upright, nearly tipping your glass of water over in the process. You were wearing nothing but your t-shirt and your panties, but you didn’t have time to scrounge around for your jeans in the dark so you just wrapped a blanket around yourself instead. Part of you hated yourself for reacting so quickly to the knock on your door, but what choice did you have?

Demon was waiting for you on the other side, as if anyone else would be here in The Shithole. His face was blank and expressionless, and you immediately knew you weren’t going to like what he had to say.

“My lord requests the pleasure of your company immediately. He, and I quote,‘wishes to discuss your future’.”  
Sweet merciful Christ. You swear under your breath, all of the air leaving your body like you had just been punched in the stomach. You shove the door closed, mumbling about getting dressed.

“Immediately means now.” 

You should know better than to lash out at him, considering what he is and all, but you can’t stop yourself.

“Can I at least put on some goddamn fucking pants?”

Demon doesn’t say anything, so you take the opportunity to duck out of sight and wrangle your jeans on. Your hair is a mess and you are in the middle of a hideous acne breakout from all the stress and you’re sure there are bags under your eyes but you couldn’t care less. It was better than what the lord deserved.

Neither you nor Demon say anything. His posture is tense again, jaw set so hard you can almost see the cracks running along it. Everything about him radiates, _Do not talk to me_ , and at this point you’re just happy he’s making it so obvious.

You don’t go to the dining room. Instead you’re guiding up a dizzying tower of stairs, climbing for what felt like forever. When you get tired and sink down for a breather, Demon offers to carry you the rest of the way. Your first instinct is to say no, but you begrudgingly accept his offer anyway. You take solace in the fact that if he’s as strong as he looks, you’re probably not super heavy.

He sets you down oddly gently when you reach the top of the stairs, at least gently for a mass-murdering super demon anyway. It’s so stupid, but it makes you almost tear up for some reason… God, the rain is really driving you crazy, isn’t it.

The door in front of you looks old, way older than the rest of the house. Compared to the polished, pristine surfaces of everything in The Shithole, this is a fucking wreck. The wood is cracked and dull, Parts of it looked rotten, like you could force your first through without much effort. You imagine bursting through the door like the Kool-aid man and telling the lord to go fuck himself, and you have to smile, even if just a little….

“The lord will see you now.” You almost expect the door to collapse under the Demon’s touch, but it holds out somehow. You thank him with a quick smile as you walk through, expecting to feel him coming up behind you to speak for the lord.

Nothing. You are alone. 

You look back at him, eyes wide and face pale. A strange expression pulls at his face, and if you didn’t know any better you would swear he looks… regretful. As the door closes behind you, you catch Demon staring at you. His eyes are dark and hooded, and when he catches you staring back at him his brows furrow together-

The door closes behind you. You close your eyes. You count to ten.

When you open your eyes, you are shocked to see what looks like… a modern office? There’s an honest to god computer on the metal desk, the couch looks like something out of a modern art museum, and the wall facing you is nothing but a large, curtainless window. The only thing you see outside is rain, but it’s so different from the small, curtained windows you’ve become used to that it makes your heart clench all the same.

It was then you notice the light pulsing in the sleek office chair in front of you. It takes you a second to realize you’ve seen it before, and you have to think for a second about where-.

Fucking hell, it was the light that you saw in the woods, the one on the angels’s hands on the gate. The fucker had been watching you the whole time. He had lured you in the first place, that fucking _prick._

The light… the lord, gave a strange, alien hum. It might have been pretty if you had no idea what it was. If you could find a way to punch him, God, you were going to.

The humming deepens, then slows and then… expands, somehow? Your ears pop, and you shake your head at the sudden discomfort. 

_Hello angel._ A voice that was neither male nor female echoes across the room. _Sorry to keep you waiting._

There’s an open chair in front of the desk. You get the feeling the lord expects you to sit there. You linger by the door, brows knitted together in a way you must have picked up from Demon. Speaking of, you hadn’t heard his footsteps walking away yet. Was he still there, waiting? Somehow that thought gives you the strength you need to respond without your voice cracking.

“I’m fine here.”

_Perhaps._

You’re suddenly sitting in the chair. You start, feet skittering for purchase as you try to sit up. Your limbs, though, don’t seem to want to move.

_An interesting place, don’t you think? I plucked it from your memory. I added my personal touches, as you can see. I have always enjoyed a nice rainstorm._

You really want to tell him what you think of his rainstorms, but your mouth suddenly isn’t working either. The sudden loss of control of your body frightens you, and your panic only intensifies when nothing is moving.

_Tsk. You have quite the mouthy streak, don’t you. I had hoped it would have disappeared by now, but it seems more drastic measures will have to be taken. No matter._

There is a silence. It’s like he’s waiting for you to say something. Maybe he wants to demonstrate his ‘drastic measures’ and you brace yourself for whatever is coming. 

_For a human, you’re very beautiful, you know. When I saw you on that trail, I couldn’t help myself. I forgot how easy it is. Such a long time I’ve been alone. Even one such as me misses company._

Another pause. You are fixated on every word, not by choice but by necessity. You’ve been here all this time and haven’t had the slightest clue why he brought you to this miserable place. Now, it seemed, he was ready to talk, and your spine turned to mush when you thought of all of the horrible plans he had in store for you…

_You will take some training to be complete. It is not your fault. Humans are imperfect creatures. But I am patient. It may take time, but the end result will be worth it, don’t you agree? When you are perfect, you can finally accept me._

What the fuck was he talking about? Your stomach sank with every word. You wanted to scream. Cry. Do something, anything besides sit and gape wordlessly. You couldn’t your body was broken, useless, and you couldn’t fucking do anything.

_The slave shall attend to your lessons. What a useful toy, don’t you think? When you are perfect and ready, I think he should be the one to present you to me. A wonderful gift, isn’t it?_

The light flares, and you can’t even close your eyes. 

You have never, ever felt pain like this in your life. Every single piece of your body is burning. All you can think of, all your are, is the white-hot agony that has devoured you whole.

_It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts-_

A hand on your shoulder. You find your voice again and scream. When you feel flesh underneath your fingernails you scream again, scratching at that awful thing, that terrible, inhuman _monster_ -

“Hey! Watch it!”

That’s not the voice of the lord. It’s Demon. 

You dare open your eyes. You are in not-your-room. It is dark, the lights dim and curtains drawn. Your head is throbbing, and the ache intensifies with every raindrop that hits the window.

“W...what….”

Demon’s dark, tall form is next to not-your bed. You wonder how you got there. Did Demon carry you, or were you just… moved, somehow? You try to think about what just happened, but the pain slams into you like a truck and you can’t think of anything at all-

“My lord wishes to… educate you on proper manners. He thinks you are somewhat lacking. Your training will begin when you wake up.”

Demon’s voice, oddly enough, doesn’t make your head hurt. It’s soft, somehow, oddly soothing for a voice so rough and deep. You almost can’t understand what he’s saying, so desperate are you to sink in it.

“My lord is… unable to personally assist you, so I shall tutor you in his absence. I admit, my knowledge of human etiquette is incomplete, to say the least, but I shall fulfil my lord’s will to the best of my ability anyway.”

Demon is… still there. He hasn’t moved. Not that you want him to. You can’t bear to be alone in this evil place. You need him to stay with you. Anything to distract you from the pain and the light and the _goddamn rain_ -

“Mi… Mister Demon.” You murmur. You think he straightens up, and for a second you think you can see the bright flash of his eyes.

“Yes?”

You haven’t slept on not-your-bed since you’ve been taken here. It’s a small act of rebellion, but it’s yours and you aren’t about to stop now. You struggle to mouth the words, your body still limp and sluggish and not moving how you know it should.

“P-Put me on the floor. Please.”

His dark form moves towards you. You feel what you think are arms around your body. They’re warm, almost uncomfortably warm. You want to snuggle in closer, but your limbs are heavy and refuse to move-

You must be on the floor, because the dark form above you seems even taller.

“Is there anything else you require?”

You want him to stay. You want him to help you. You want…

All of those thoughts drift away. The darkness wraps around you and you can’t do anything to stop it…

In your dreams there is a dark form watching over you...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading y'all! It's kind of nice to post all this old stuff on here and seeing that people like it. Maybe someday a revision is in order? I appreciate all the comments and kudos and hope everyone has a great day!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright from here on out things are gonna get... interesting hehe. I'm not sure how I feel about all of this (is the chemistry okay does everything make sense what am I even doing aaaa) so if you have advice/feedback I'd love to hear it! Otherwise enjoy and have a wonderful day and all of that jazz!

A knock on your door. You bolt awake instantly.

You grasp for anything in reach. Your hands feel something leathery, something hard, and you grab it in your shaking hands. You _ know _ that the pain is coming, that any second you will feel it again-

“It’s time for your lessons. Get ready.”

Demon. Not the pain. You lower the object slowly. It takes you a second to realize it’s an old, worn book. You frown, not sure how this strange book ended up on the floor next to you in the first place-

“Uh… okay.” You stagger to your feet, turning the mysterious book over. There’s no words on the spine, nor on the cover. It’s heavy, almost, you think, heavier than it should be. You frown, poised to crack it open-

“Now.”

Demon’s voice implies there’s no room for argument. You sigh, ducking into the closet and pulling out the closest, least-offensive dress. While it is tempting to just sit in your room and pore through the book…

You still haven’t found a way to escape The Shithole. Demon, you have a feeling, is your ticket to doing just that. There’s no way to conceal the book, and if you leave it in your room it definitely won’t be there when you come back, so you just carry it with you. You plaster the fakest smile you can manage as you walk out of the room. Maybe Demon will be distracted by it or something, and you wonder why you even thought that as you open the door. 

Demon’s gaze fixes on the book you carry on your hip. For a second you wonder if he’s going to say something-

Then he gestures down the hall, and you follow without a word..

* * *

A demon giving human etiquette lessons seems like a terrible idea on paper. It turns out, it’s even worse than you can even imagine being possible. Or better, honestly.

Demon spent the first… hour, you think, of the lesson asking you what human etiquette even was. You aren’t exactly the most well-versed on the subject to begin with, but you told him what you knew anyways. At first he seemed mildly confused, but the more detailed your explanations get that confusion turned into naked contempt.

“So… you really have to stick your pinky out when you drink tea?”

He sounds so personally offended that you can’t stifle your giggle. 

“I mean… you don’t have to, only the super-ragged old people really care, but it’s-”

He leans forward, eyebrows so close together they're practically touching.

“It’s… just tea. How does the position of your fingers make any difference?”

Honestly, you have no idea either. You could make something up, just to mess with Demon, but that seems a little mean, even if it is kind of funny to see him so annoyed at the concept of human etiquette. 

You mimic holding a teacup, your pinky finger proudly extended as far as it can go. “But isn’t this the epitome of class, Master Demon? Are you not feeling so respected and catered to at this very moment?”

Demon’s lips curl. “Of course. Forgive me. I see the light.”

As if on cue, a teacup filled with piping hot tea materializes in front of you. You can’t help but stare at it for a second-

“Do it.” He leans forward, eyes bright. “I want to see it in its full glory.”

You pick up the teacup. The feeling that you get when you drink a swig, finger fully extended, looking Demon square in the eyes can only be described as powerful.

The tea is delicious. It feels cheesy as fuck to admit this, but it feels like there’s heart in there, somehow.

Demon chuckles. You sputter into your teacup.

He’s holding a book in his hands. The cover shows two ladies in what looks like formal dress bowing to each other. For someone with such sharp claws at the end of his fingers, he’s turning the pages rather delicately. For some reason that also makes you sputter into your tea again and what the fuck is wrong with you-

“Okay. I guess this is as good a place to start as any.”

Demon’s face as he flips through the book looks like he’s sucking on a lemon. It’s pretty funny, but the smile on your face softens as his expression turns into something more neutral.

His face is… nice. You’ve never really looked at it before, but you find yourself staring more than you should. Your gaze traces the sharp angles of his jawbone, follows the severe lines of his cheekbones, up the long, somehow tantalizing curve of his horns. Something about him, maybe the fangs or the red skin or the claws that tip his fingers make your stomach clench and your breath grow fast. You  _ know  _ that he’s... wrong, somehow. Unnatural. Something that shouldn’t be here. Some primal part of you is reacting to his presence, whispering  _ danger _ in your ear as your eyes settle on his again. 

You’ve never seen eyes so bright and furious. They’re like sunlight trapped in a bottle, and the longer you look at them the more you begin to feel… warm.

“...Yes?”

Oh shit he’s looking at you. You tear your eyes away, your face probably as red as his skin and oh fuck he saw you staring at him. One of his eyebrow quirks upwards ever so slightly and all of a sudden you wish a hole would open up in the ground and deliver you from this pain.

“U-Uh…” You sputter, looking around frantically for something to latch onto. The first thing you see is your empty teacup. You grab it like a drowning person would grab onto a piece of debris.

“C-Can I have more tea! P-Please!” 

His eyes flicker to your teacup. It’s instantly full. You chug it all down in one swig. As soon as you set it down, it’s full again.

“Oh. Uh, thank you.”

He shrugs, pawing through the book some more. Instead of staring at his face like a weirdo, you stare at the nice, solid table that definitely won’t stare back, nope, not at all.

Why were you even staring in the first place? Why are you acting like this anyway? Demon is… a demon! He takes people’s souls, dammit! He’s probably done terrible, horrible things that would make your bones turn to mush. If he had a choice he would probably-

“Well. Let’s get this over with, then.” Demon’s voice immediately derails your train of thought. Even though it’s etiquette lessons for the amusement of the supreme asshole that is the lord, you are almost grateful for the distraction.

Demon’s first lesson is on bowing and curtseying, and when to properly apply them. His idea of tutoring is to read aloud from the book in a tone that suggests he’s yearning for death, and making you practice a few times until you get the bare minimum down. The book apparently suggests a few practice scenarios, and you go through those too, Demon looking more and more miserable with each scenario he has to act out. You think it’s funny the first few times, and then, with a sinking feeling in your stomach, you remember that Demon is basically being forced to do this…

“Hey. Can we take a break?” Your legs kind of ache from repeated curtseys, but it was Demon’s sour expression that was really the tipping point for you. He nods, then sits down immediately, arms crossed and gaze fixed squarely on the wall in front of him. 

You know that expression on his face. You’ve seen it on your own countless times when you look into the mirror of not-your-room and think about home. He’s a… demon, sure, but he’s been the most human thing in this fucking awful house since you’ve gotten there. Whatever he is, whatever he’s done, he doesn’t deserve to be a toy of some megalomaniac for who knows how long. No living thing does.

You remember the first time you saw him, and how he was holding a teacup full of tea. Your cup is still warm and steaming, even though you haven’t touched it in what feels like hours. 

“Hey, Mister Demon?”

His eyes flicker towards you. You flinch at the sudden sharpness in them.

You think it's a terrible idea, but you offer him the teacup anyways. “Do you… want it?”

He blinks, slowly. His gaze moves from the teacup, back to you.

“...what?” He finally says.

You aren’t sure if this is good or not, but you keep going anyways. “I, uh… I’m finished with it, and I just thought you’d…”

The teacup disappears from your hands. For a second your heart sinks when you don’t see it, but it suddenly appears in his. Without a word he gently sips it, eyes slipping from you and back to the wall. It’s hard to tell, but you think you see his expression soften just a little bit.

Neither of you say anything for awhile. He’s the one to break the silence, to drill you on your lessons again. You don’t giggle at his sour-faced expressions when you see them, nor do you intentionally mess up your steps to try to get a rise out of him. You just finish up as quickly as possible, and get everything done as quickly as you can. When he drops you off at not-your-room, he leaves as soon as the door shuts.

You try not to think about it, but your heart feels so strangely heavy when you hear him walk away…

* * *

Before you sleep, you decide to read the book.

You almost expect to open it up and find some unreadable, unknowable language staring back at you, and for the briefest of seconds you do. Before you can blink, though, something about the words changes immediately and you can understand them like you’ve known the language all of your life. Something strange like that should unnerve you, but you’ve just got done with etiquette lessons with an actual demon at the whims of a giant sadistic ball of light, so this is just On Brand, sadly.

Even though you can understand the words, it’s not easy to read at all. Some of the words shimmer and ache in your head before you can understand what they mean, like there’s no easy way to translate what they mean into language you can understand. You have to stop every few paragraphs to put the book down and massage your aching temples.Yet you power through and try to ignore the pain as best you can, because-

The book is about Demons. Specifically, how to summon them, and the particulars of the deals made with them. You, of course, immediately try to find the section on Greater Demons, but that immediately proves to be a futile task.

There’s no organization, no table of contents to follow. It feels like the author just stream-of-conciousness wrote whatever was on their mind, jumping from one subject to another and back on whims that only made sense to them, with notes and footnotes addendums scrawled in whenever there was free space. Making sense of the book is nearly impossible, as you have no idea what any of it all means. Is one whole paragraph scratched out because it was wrong information, or did the author just want to expand on the point they were making already and want to put the scratched out information somewhere else? Was the footnote that contradicted the information in the main text correct, or did the author just make a mistake? What the fuck did that shitty diagram that had nothing to do with what was being talked about on the page opposite it even mean? 

You decide to just look for the basic things, the ones that seemed to have the least amount of corrections or additions to them. It took you hours of sifting, but you eventually had a base to work with at the end of it.

Demons make bargains with humans in exchange for their souls. The human must complete a very complex and intense ritual to even summon a lesser demon. The bargain can be made verbally for weaker bargains, but for stronger ones there is an item that symbolizes the bargain. What it is depends on the bargain being made. The bargain stands until the terms are met, at which point the demon takes back the item and the person’s soul.

The author seemed to be specifically speaking about lesser demons, but that piece of information still gave you pause. The notes on that particular train of thought were contradictory, even for this mess of a book, but you decide to pursue that subject in more depth.

If the item is destroyed (maybe) the demon can take the person’s soul (sometimes, it depends, see these cases where it didn’t happen). If the person breaks the terms of the bargain or changes the item’s form the demon can take the human’s soul (Sometimes the human can outsmart the demon and use their magic against them)

(The demon, however, will always find a way out, so this is not recommended)

The demon will always find a way out. A way…

There was a way to stop this. There was a way out.

You read those lines over and over.  _ The demon will always find a way out so this isn’t recommended. _

If the rules of summoning applied to greater demons, then there must have been an object. The lord must have done something to it to keep it out of Demon’s reach, and that’s why he was trapped here. The book seemed to imply that the form the item took was related to the terms of the bargain, but what could that even be? 

You had so many questions. So many ideas, so many leads, so many plans to test and for the first time since you came to The Shithole, you have  _ something _ . Not a vague hope or a desperate wish.  _ Something _ .

You fall asleep clutching the old, worn book. For the first time in a long, long time, your dreams are happy.

In them the dark figure hovers, and he is smiling...

* * *

Demon knocks on your door, again. This time you’re almost happy to see him when you open the door.

“Hey Mister Demon! How are you!” You chirp. His gaze settles on the book in your arm for a second, only to snap back to you.

“...fine, I guess.” 

His tone suggests he is less than fine, and that dampens your mood for just a second, but you’re so fucking happy you can’t feel guilty about it for long.

“So, etiquette…” You ask your grumpy, silent tutor-demon as you walk to whatever room you’re going to. “Do they have anything like that where you, uh, come from?”

You don’t know why you asked that question. The reasoning in your head was that it might take his mind off of his foul mood, and you immediately regret it as soon as the words leave your mouth-

“No. Where I come from is very different from your world.”

He doesn’t sound annoyed anymore. He just sounds… quiet. You dare glance at his face, and his eyes are staring ahead, somewhere far away.

You decide not to press your luck and leave it at that. To your surprise, though, he keeps talking.

“You would compare it to music, I think. It’s countless voices, countless songs weaving and twisting around each other. When one of us enters or leaves the song, it changes. Expands and contracts, darkens and pulls. Every voice is its own, has its own part that can’t be replaced by anyone else…”

He trails off, pace slowing to a crawl. There’s no mistaking the pang of longing in his voice.

You can’t possibly imagine what that must be like. To go from being surrounded by others, to here, this lonely place, at the whims of a madman. More than that, this place was so quiet. The only sounds you have heard here are the ones you and Demon have made.

“...I’m sorry.” Your voice is so quiet you don’t know if he can hear you or not. He must have, because his gaze fixes on you again. Your eyes slip away from his. Your heart sinks into your stomach as you feel the heat of his eyes...

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

He sounds… curious, not accusatory, and that gives you the courage to look at him, if only for a moment.

“I’m just… sorry you’re here.” You whisper. 

You aren’t looking at his face, but you swear you hear a smile in his voice.

“Me too.”

Your heart is still heavy as you resume your pace, but he seems more… energized, somehow? You know you shouldn’t, but it makes you feel better than you’d care to admit…

* * *

“So today we’re dancing.” Demon remarks before you even have a chance to open your mouth.

Whatever thought you had in your head short circuits. Dancing? Like touching each other dancing? Like super close contact oh sweet God what.

“Uh… uh really?”

Demon nods, giving the book on the table a venomous look. “It’s either that or how to speak properly, and we can both agree that you know how to do that, you just choose not to, correct?”

You nod. You don’t know what else to do. It’s not like he’s wrong.

“So dancing it is.”

You wonder why the lord wants you to learn how to dance in the first place, and a shudder runs down your spine. You would rather bathe in radiation than do that with that asshole, or shove an entire cactus up your ass-

You take your places at the table. There’s a steaming hot cup of tea waiting for you and so help you God it makes you feel just a little better.

“You can have a cup too if you want.” You say to Demon. Before you can finish the sentence there’s a cup in his hand too. Something nags at you as you watch him sip it.

“Can you like, taste it?” 

His lips quirk upwards. “Yes. I can taste things. When I’m in your world I’m capable of everything you squishy humans are.”

“Do you need to eat?” It seems like a silly question, but he seems to enjoy talking about silly things, so why not? If you’re going to be prodding at him later, you should try to get him in a good mood… at least you tell yourself that, anyways. It’s not like seeing him happy instead of grumpy makes you feel good or anything....

Demon shrugs. “No, but I like the taste.”

“What do you eat then?” You lean forward, honestly kind of curious-

“I feed on souls ripped from the bodies of innocents, of course.”

Your face must have fallen because he immediately responds. “That was what you humans call a joke.”

“Oh really? You need to work on your sense of humor.” You weren’t even aware demons could make jokes, but Demon is… kind of not really what anyone would think demons are like. He’s kind of… a dork, honestly? You try to push down the warm, fuzzy feelings that are bubbling to the surface when you think that, but it’s really, really hard-

“Maybe you just need to get a better one.” He sips his tea, as if to illustrate his point. 

“That was kind of funny. You’re getting there.” 

Demon’s lip curls. He points at the book that's ominously cracked open in front of him.

“No more distractions. We have to work on this.”

You give the book a dirty look. You really, really want to throw it in the fire and burn the entire house down with it, but you settle for a pout instead.

“Okay. Types of dances and when you’re supposed to do them. Let’s get started, I guess.”

He doesn’t deviate from the text he’s reading, and you quickly stop trying to listen after awhile. You instead settle for drifting off, Demon’s voice becoming a comfortable drone in the background. You wonder if the lord is somewhere, watching all this. If he was, though, Demon probably wouldn’t be nearly as relaxed. 

If the lord wasn’t here, what was he doing? Why summon a demon to get… this, and not pay any attention to the captives inside of it? If that was what he even summoned Demon for anyway. Why did he have you doing etiquette, and why were you even here? You thought of more and more questions you didn’t know the answer to the longer you sat, and it was making you mildly nauseous, so you tried to think of other things instead.

You thought of the people closest to you, and how much you ached to see them again. You thought of your home, where the rooms didn’t change and you were happy to sleep in your bed at night. You remembered the simple joy of the sunlight kissing your skin, music that filled your body and soul and not this deathly, stifling silence, the sound of people around you...

You didn’t notice Demon staring at you until you looked up at him. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were pursed. You started, straightening in your chair immediately.

“S-Sorry. I drifted off.”

You expected Demon to shrug and keep going, but his eyes… softened? 

“You apologize too much.” Was the only thing he said before he restarted his monologue.

You settle back in your seat, mind drifting through your memories, though you found your gaze and your thoughts drifting to… Demon?

Nope. Nope. Nope. You shook your head every time. He’s literally the only decent person you’ve talked to in who knows how long, this is why you’re acting this way. You’re desperate, you’re starved for attention, you’re-

“Okay. Now we practice.” Demon slams the book shut roughly and shoves it to the side. It flies off the table and hits the wall but he doesn’t seem to care. All of a sudden you wonder if touching him is a good idea, or if you’re going to share the same fate as the book when he’s done with you. Or even worse, if you don’t…

“Oh. Uh…” You scramble to your feet, putting your own book on the table as you straighten out your dress. 

“Okay. First up. Waltz. Let’s go.”

He holds out his hand. You kind of don’t want to take it, but… you have to get this over with. Demon probably can’t leave until your lesson is done, so no point in drawing it out with an argument that will lead to the same result. That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

“Sorry.” You whisper as you gently place your hand in his. You almost expect it to be hot or cold or different somehow than a human’s hand, and it kind of is, but not in a way you can easily assign words to. The closest thing you can think of it’s… more solid than it feels like should be.

That half smile flashes across his face. “You-”

“Apologize too much, yeah you told me.”

You don’t expect him to be a good dancer, he’s a demon, after all, but it seems like he’s been paying more attention than you because he takes the first step. You aren’t sure what you’re supposed to do, and you look up at him desperately.

“Just do what I do. It’s fine.”

You do just that, and you get another half-smile as your reward. You wonder if he’s doing this on purpose because it’s really working as a reward and you stop that train of thought and try to think of literally anything else, goddamn it-

“All of this is… very European, isn’t it?”  
The strangeness of his touch is both repulsive and enticing and you aren’t sure which one it is and stop, brain, stop-

Demon’s eyebrows lower for just a second, and you curse yourself for speaking without thinking-

“Familiarity, I suppose.” 

The lord was European. Not useful, but it was a start. And a test.

You give Demon some time to cool off. You follow the steps a few times. He doesn’t say anything besides advise on your dance steps. You step on his feet accidently a few times, but he doesn’t seem to care. You are about to ask if he can feel pain before you shake that thought off and go to your next question-

“This house… you said it was like a body once. What did you mean, exactly?”  
You wish you could be more specific, but that was too dangerous. You swallowed as you felt Demon’s hand twitch in yours, suddenly mindful of how sharp his claws looked-

“It shares traits with a body. It has organs. Lungs, brain, heart.”

His claws scrape the top of your hand when he says  _ heart _ . Your own heart must have stopped beating.

Heart. The heart of a house. Was that…?

You step on Demon’s foot again. His lips curl upwards.

“So many questions. Do you ever run out of them?”

Nobody in your life has looked at you with the intensity Demon is. The breath in your lungs suddenly vanishes. The bones in your legs go with it. You can’t fucking think of what you were doing to do next, because his eyes are so fucking bright and unnatural but they’re more gorgeous than anything you’ve ever seen-

“I have a question for you-” He says your first name, and hearing it in his voice makes you lose the bones in your spine too- “Do you want to hear it?”

You nod. Or something. You don’t even know anymore.

“Why are you so interested in a demon? In me?”

Oh.

Fuck.

You’ve stopped moving. There’s just the tiniest bit of space between your bodies, but you can feel the  _ strangeness  _ radiating off him like light from a star. A thousand conflicting thoughts and instincts flare to life, all jumbling into each other. Do you run? Change the subject? Play dumb? Confess? Why would you confess there’s nothing to confess this is all just some kind of terrible, terrible misunderstanding-

“W-what?” You gasp like an asphyxiating fish. You must look like one too, your mouth is open and your eyes are wide but you can’t look away because he’s looking at you like that.

“I can see your soul, you know.” His voice is quiet. Too quiet. “All of your fleeting thoughts and emotions. I’ve spent enough time around humans to know what it all means.”

You can’t feel your hands anymore. The  _ strangeness _ is so strong that it’s overpowering them. You realize, you really,  _ really _ realize what Demon is in that moment. He’s something unknowable, something alien, something extraordinarily  _ powerful _ -

“Humans enslave us. They tear us from our home and make us do tricks in exchange for their souls, as if  _ that  _ somehow makes up for it.”

The too quietness of his voice is practically dripping with the strangeness, It’s drilling into your brain, seeping and sinking inside of it and you can’t stop it-

“You’d sacrifice anything for your own selfish desires. No price is too high for you fucking parasites. Over and over you spread ruin where you walk, caring not for the lives you destroy along the way.”

You can’t breathe. The air is  _ wrong.  _ You want this to stop but can’t get the words out make it stop make it stop make it stop-

“No one can refuse what we offer. Even those who claim to be pure. So tell me-” He says your name again, and it’s like a knife in your heart. “What do you want? My affection? My body? My  _ love _ ?”

He spits the last word out like it’s razors in his mouth. 

“Take it! You’ve taken everything else from me! Just take it!”

The strangeness surges and you are lost inside of it. There’s nothing, nothing but a long, unending scream that grows louder and louder and louder-

Then there’s nothing. You’re back in the room. Your hand is in Demon’s like nothing is wrong. You take a ragged gasping breath and pull away from him as quickly as you can. He doesn’t react instead staring upwards at the ceiling-

“I see, I apologize.”

His voice is flat. Empty. There was no emotion in his voice. 

The lord.

Demon is quiet for a short while. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. You are frozen in place, and your eyes drift to the book lying in plain view on the table-

He says your name, short and curt, and your attention immediately snaps back to him.

“I must apologize.” He continues in his blank monotone, “For upsetting you. It will not happen again.”

One second he is there, the next he is gone.

You are alone in a suddenly dark and cold room. It must have been hours before you start to cry…


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***THE TAGGED NONCON HAPPENS IN THIS CHAPTER***  
> Thanks for reading as always and hope you enjoy! (heh) I think this sequence is the one that bugs me the most and will be rewritten maybe at some point so warning for writing of questionable quality too tbh. Also, this is not the end folks, even though it seems like it is, we have one more chapter to go!

You haven’t seen Demon in a long time. 

You try to focus on your goal. You need to escape, you need to figure out what Demon was trying to tell you, but you can’t focus. Every time you try his booming, furious voice roars in your head and you can almost feel the strangeness strangling you again.

_ What do you want? My affection? My body? My  _ love _? _

You were angry, at first. How dare he say those things to you, how dare he scare you like that, how dare he, how dare he, how dare he! You didn’t want to think of him, and shoved back every painful thought of him with all of the venom you could muster, thinking of all the things you would say to him when you saw him again-

Then you sat and actually thought about it. You thought of what it must be like to be separated from those you care about, in a world that wasn’t yours. You thought about people asking you over and over to give them things, committing countless atrocities with the power you gave them. You thought of the rage and the humiliation you would feel being referred to as a slave and being forced to do menial, trivial things day after day after day when all you wanted was to go home.

You thought of enduring all that, then meeting someone who wanted something else from you. Something that you never wanted to give them in the first place.

This was your fault. You should have known better. He had to treat you well because he was forced to. You knew this, deep down, but you didn’t want to believe it. You just wanted so desperately to hang on to something, anything, and you hung onto him, uncaring about what he felt.

He called humans selfish. He was right.

You can’t help but wonder where he is, what’s happening to him. You think about it constantly, whispering tearful apologies under your breath as if he can hear them. Your words are weak, meaningless things, devoid of any weight or heft. After all, what did he say about you?  _ You apologize too much. _

You spend your days wandering the halls of the house. Your only company is the book clutched in your arms and the incessant sound of rain on the windows. When you’re hungry, the dining room appears sometimes, though you never stay there. You grab what you need and go, wondering if the lord is in his chair, watching you as you do so.

You find the Sun Room once. You fall asleep in there with all of the lamps turned up as bright as they can go.

You’re looking for the heart of the house, whatever that is. You look inside every door you can find, every nook, every cranny, every dusty corner you come across. Most of the doors hide different iterations of not-your-rooms. You are so, so tired of seeing them. You’ve taken to sleeping in the hallways, with blankets stolen from the closet not-your-room. It’s uncomfortable, but at least everything around you doesn’t change when you leave it. Sometimes your composure breaks and you run screaming down the hallway, slamming all the doors and cursing whatever gods you can remember for putting you in this fucked up Shithole. Sometimes you break down and cry, aching so badly to see someone, anyone, and to hear anything besides the rain for once, just once.

You pick yourself after and keep going. What else can you do?

You still don’t know what the heart of the house means. You think about it a lot, trying to piece together all of the clues you’ve gathered. The leather book doesn’t offer any insights, not that you expect it to, and you can’t find anything from ransacking the endless not-you-rooms, and you’ve since long given up. You comb the recesses of your mind, over and over, 

You sometimes get the nagging feeling that you’re forgetting something. No matter how much you try, though, you can’t seem to remember…

One day you get a visit.

* * *

A booming voice rouses you from your sleep. For a second you think it's Demon again, all pain and anger and rage, but it wasn’t. This voice came from everywhere and nowhere. It's…

The lord.

_ Ah. There you are, angel. You wandered so far. Why would you do such a thing? _

You don't answer. You aren't going to give him the pleasure.

_ You must be upset. Angry, even. I can understand. I know how you feel. _

Your stomach churns.  _ He _ knew how  _ you _ felt? You bite back your immediate urge telling him to go fuck himself.

_ I have something that might please you. Come. _

A small, white orb floats in front of you. It’s light is wan and thin, yet staring at it makes your eyes hurt. You think about swatting it away and ignoring it for a second, but…

It could also lead you to the heart of the house. You put on your best smile, and follow it.

_ You’ve seen so much of the house.  _ He continues.  _ Such a wonderful thing, yes? _

You nod. Wonderful is not the word you’d use, but the lord didn’t need to know that. Yet.

_ So empty though. So, so empty. It’s been this way for such a long time. _

Your heart sinks when you think of Demon. You’ve gotten a sense of what his life might have been like, aimlessly roaming empty halls, despair choking him with every step…

You can’t think of him. You can’t. You have to focus, have to-

_ You would bring something so wonderful to this place, wouldn’t you. Such a nice addition. _

You find the courage to open your mouth and speak. “Addition?”

The light pulses, and your eyes water.  _ Oh yes. Your soul is so beautiful, so bright, you know? Just a little more rage, just a sprinkle of pain more. Then, you can be added. _

You want to vomit. You want to scream, you want to cry, you want to somehow snap this ball of light in half with your bare hands. 

You keep walking.

_ It’s been so long, you know. So long.... _

You say nothing. The light leads you to a staircase. It's the same one that you climbed up to see the lord the last time. It somehow seems even longer the second time. You collapse from exhaustion several times and the light simply disappears until you get your breath back. You find yourself remembering Demon carrying you, and that memory swims to the surface no matter how hard you try to push it down…

You come to the ancient and creaking door. You wonder if this is where you have to go, the heart. If it is, though, what can do you with the lord leering over you the entire time? Maybe you can distract him somehow, slip away and do something-

_ We’re here. _

The door opens by itself. You follow the lord inside.

It’s not a bright, modern office this time. The room is dark, even by The Shithole’s standards. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust, the lord's sickly light doing nothing to help. You sense movement to your side, and your eyes snap to it-

There’s a giant, ancient-looking bed in the center of the room. For a second you think the mass on top of it is simply a tangle of covers, then, when you get a better look at it-

No. No no no no no no-

Demon is laying on the bed, completely naked, arms and legs bound with dark leather straps. The same straps cover his eyes, his mouth, and you see one snaking in between his legs. Something dark and heavy squirms there. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t react.

The light pulses again. 

_ He told me you wanted him. Told me how he could feel your soul yearning for him. Yet he refused you. Rude, don’t you agree?  _

The light pulses again, and Demon makes a muffled, choking noise through his gag.

_ A slave should never talk back. Not to us. Not to their masters.  _

Another pulse. Another, louder noise.

_ You were meant to serve. Yet you forget that. Always you forget that. Always you try to wriggle and squirm like the insect you are. What worth did your power have before  _ I  _ claimed it? _

Demon isn’t straining at his bonds or fighting back. He’s just taking it. You try to move but your body is made of stone. You can’t think. You can’t move. All your miserable body can do is sit and watch, with useless tears streaming down your face.

A pulse so bright your eyes burn. An ear-splitting scream.

“STOP IT!” 

You finally find your body again. You sprint to the bed, the only thing you can think of is freeing him however you can. You manage to make it to the bed, fingers curling around one of the straps around his foot-

Then the pain slams into you, and it is all you can feel.

_ You hate me for doing this to him? Ah, how beautiful is your rage, your anger. If only you could see it. _

The pain subsides enough for you to spit out a response.

“Fuck you,  _ asshole _ .”

A wall of pain somehow more violent than the last. Your sense of self completely dissolves. You are swallowed whole by that unyielding, uncaring light, and it takes everything about who you are with it.

_ There you go. You're all ready now. The perfect addition to my lovely domain. _

You utter one final, strangled gasp and then you feel nothing at all

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ You have everything you want.  _

_ But of course the demon had to pull one last trick. _

_ You have everything in an empty world. Your body dissolved away the second you claimed your slave’s power, unable to bear the force of it. With it, your ties to Earth dissolved too. You drift like a ship without an anchor, only able to come to shore when the tides will it. Your domain is frozen. Empty. Only a powerless slave to toy with when you’re bored. And you are so, so very bored. _

_ You can fix that, though.  _

_ When you come close to Earth, you have influence. You can materialize your kingdom there. You can call the willing in, and they will come to you. _

_ When you do, you will change them. Mould them. Make them feel the most glorious, brilliant emotions for you to marvel at. _

_ And when they burn brightest you will accept them. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ You stand in the middle of a summoning circle. The demon you mean to summon is dangerous. To find his name, you had to waste years of your life poring through scrolls and documents left behind by lesser civilizations. It had better be worth the effort.  _

_ Only this demon can give you what you want. You know what his price is, you know what he will ask from you, but you aren’t like the other simpletons who dared call on him. _

_ You have a plan. _

_ The corpse of your wife stares at you as you slash your hand with a knife. Your two children lay prone at the other end of the circle. Your father watches the blood drip from your hand with blank, lifeless eyes.  _

**Let her go.**

_ They are the first of many. _

_ The blood hits the ground. Words from a language that haven’t been uttered in a millenia slip past your lips. Your chanting peaks to a fever pitch. You hear other voices join you; your wife, your children, your father, all join in the chorus. The blood sizzles and hisses when it hits the center of the circle, the smoke churning and pulsing and solidifying- _

_ You say his name.  _

_ He comes. _

**Let her go.**

_ He is everything you thought he would be. No nightmare could compare to the abomination writhing in the circle in front of you. _

**Let her go.**

_ You say his name again. He responds with a wail, and it sounds like the voices of the corpses around you rolled into one, endless scream- _

**Let her go let her go let her go-**

_ It asks what you desire from it, why you have called it to this miserable Earth- _

**I won’t let you do this let her go-**

_ You tell him what you want- _

__ **I don't care if I die you can't have her-**

_ Give me all of your power. Every last drop. _

__ **You haven't taken all my power from me-**

_ The demon extends his hand. In it you see- _

**LET. HER. GO.**

_ You see- _

**LET. HER. GO.**

_ Your head is splitting your eyes are boiling it hurts it hurts it hurts but you reach out and you feel- _

_ You feel- _

_ You feel- _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ Something burns your hand. It’s like- _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ It’s like fire. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ For a second you see a demon standing over you, a worn leather book clutched in his hands. _

_ . _

_. _

_. _

_. _

You feel something.

It’s not pain.

You blink. Your eyes move. You wiggle your fingers. They move too.

You’re… somewhere. Where?

The ground beneath you shakes. You force yourself to sit up. You expect the pain to slam into you again and you wince.

The window behind you breaks.

You try to remember. Who were you? What were you doing? You were… trying to find something… and… and....

The wind is howling. It sounds like someone screaming. You’ve heard that voice, but where?

Your head is spinning. You try to think, but it’s so hard. There’s something important, something you need to do, something-

The voice again. The pain returns, and you suck in a quick, shuddering breath-

**Fire.**

Fire? What about fire?

Wait.

You know this.

**Fire.**

You close your eyes, trying to think.

**Fire.**

Fire is…

Fire is…

Fire is…

The heart.

It all comes back in an instant. The house. The lord. The demon.

The first time you saw Demon was in a room with a roaring fire in the fireplace.

You jump to your feet. You see something next to you, and you nearly kick it out of the way, before you notice how familiar it looks-

Your bag.

You sling it over your shoulder. Your phone clatters to the floor and you put it in your jean pocket out of instinct. You’re a room you’ve never seen before. You’re surrounded by furniture draped in white cloth, There’s no door in sight. 

The ground heaves under your feet, nearly knocking you flat on your face. With a resounding crash a portion of the wall falls away.

You see only the familiar, endless stretch of the hallway. 

You run down it as fast as your legs can take you.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The house is falling to pieces around you. Windows shatter. Carpets dissolve. Paintings fly off the wall. 

You duck, narrowly avoiding a candlestick streaking by your head. From the closed doors around you the thumps and bashes of furniture being flung around careens into a wild symphony. Above it all, the rain rages through the paneless windows and the holes in the wall, turning the rugs in the hall into damp and sodden messes. It’s only the firm grip of your boots that has saved you from falling flat on your face.

Above it all, though, you can hear the screaming.

A voice wails in your ears, pure rage and fury. You do not know whose voice it is; Demon or the lord or maybe both. You try not to listen to it, try not to think about who might be winning, try not to feel anything at all.

You have to find it. This is the only chance you are going to get.

You turn a corner. Another hallway, same as all the others. You swear, your eyes searching for a hint of something, anything-

A strange scent tickles at your noise. It takes you a moment to remember what it is.

Smoke.

A fire.

The ache in your legs disappears as you sprint down the hall. You don’t notice the way your lungs scream for air or the glass that shreds your skin from an exploding window you don’t care you don’t care because you can smell smoke and it’s getting stronger and stronger-

You turn a corner.

It’s the room you saw when you first entered the house. It’s exactly as you remember it. Same bookshelves. Same couches. Same-

Fire.

The voice reaches a fever pitch. It expands and pulses and explodes around you. A second voice, smaller and weaker, whispers something in your ear-

You grab a nearby rug. You run towards the fire. You are halfway there, so close-

_ STOP. _

There is nothing around you but light. Light and pain and oh God it hurts it hurts-

_ DIE YOU UNGRATEFUL BITCH! _

An animal’s howl tears through your lips. Your last, desperate act is to hurl whatever you can reach towards the light-

Your thumb brushes the power button on your phone as you fling it. The screen comes to life, its light somehow brighter than the light swallowing you-

There’s a spark, a loud, shocked scream and your phone explodes in midair. The light flickers and dims, the noise a maelstrom all around you-

**DO IT.**

Someone is next to you. You see a tall dark figure and a subtle half-smile.

You heave the carpet over the fireplace, throwing your entire body on top of it. It sputters, flashes and-

Goes out. 

.

.

.

.

.

**What do you want?**

What do you want? You want to go home. You want this all to end. But… haven’t you done that already?

**What do you want? I can give anything to you. Whatever you desire is yours.**

You did want something, didn’t you? Yes, there was someone… someone you cared about…

**…**

You tell the voice what you want. You say that you want him to go home too. You say that you want him to be happy.

**…**

You feel sunlight kissing your skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, for reading! Hope you enjoyed and have a wonderful day and all of that!


	6. Chapter 6

For all of the time you spent in The Shithole, only minutes had passed on Earth, it seemed. When you came to, you had found yourself in a random trail in the nature preserve soaking wet and reeking of smoke, and when you bumped into a pair of unsuspecting hikers you honest-to-God collapsed in a sobbing, incoherent mess and had to be hauled away in an ambulance.

You think about it every day, You know you’ll think about it for the rest of your life.

It was so hard to slip back into your normal life. You find yourself forgetting how to do simple things that came easily to you before. Any time it rains, you have to turn all the lights on in your room or you’ll turn into a panicked, sobbing mess. You cry so much over such silly, wonderful things; eating at your favorite restaurant with the buzz of people around you, your room being the same whenever you come back to it, even the beep of your goddamn microwave…

You think about Demon a lot. 

You try not to, because thinking about him always hurts the most out of anything. You know you shouldn’t, you try not to, but you miss him so terribly. You can’t help it, and you hate yourself for it. 

You know he is home. You know he is whole and surrounded by his people. He is happy. You repeat those words, over and over, when you find yourself lost in a fit of sobbing.  _ He is happy, he is happy, he is happy. _

One day, while you’re watching your favorite movie on a clear, sunny afternoon, you hear a knock on your door. You ignore it, because it's probably someone trying to sell you something, and you are really, really not in the mood-

Another knock, louder this time.

You mutter something to yourself about hanging a sign on your door, put on your best disinterested bitch face, swing the door open-

You see a pair of blindingly bright eyes.

You stare at him.

He stares at you.

You can’t comprehend what you are seeing. Your eyes run over the planes of his face. The nose is the same. The jawline is the same. His cheekbones are the same. There’s no horns and his skin isn’t red but it’s  _ him _ . It’s him it’s him it’s him-

He shuffles in place, eyes slipping to the side. “Uh… hi.”

Do you cry? Do you hug him? Do you pass out? You don’t know. You might do all of them at once.

“W-Wha?” You choke out.

“...can I uh… come in?”

You nod. Your body is settling for massive disassociation. Your head moves on its own to follow him as he shrugs off his jacket (revealing an oversized t-shirt that looks hideous on him) and looks around your living room.

“Are… you. Why are you here?”  
So many questions crowd your head it feels like it was going to explode. How did he find you? Why the fuck was he here? Why was he wearing that ugly t-shirt and where did he find _that_? Before you can say any of them he continues talking.

“...when I got back, I uh…” He trails off, eyes flickering from you to the wall in front of him. “I... “

He visibly swallows. You think he’s going to drop the subject and move on when-

“I missed you.”

The room spun around you. This had to be a dream. Your alarm was going to go off any second now. Your brain was playing some kind of sick prank on you-

“It’s… strange. All of those voices were waiting for me when I came back and… I found myself wanting to hear yours most of all… so I decided to visit, and...”

You didn’t know demons could blush but he’s definitely doing that. Okay. Yeah. You were definitely dreaming. Demon saying things like that to you was completely, totally, impossible-

“...are you okay?”

You’re wobbling in place. He correctly deduces that no, you are not okay, and gently leads you to your couch. You sit down wordlessly. A steaming cup of tea that you didn’t make is sitting on your table.

“...you… miss me?”

When you touch the teacup with trembling fingers it’s definitely solid and real. He raises a cup of his own to his lips. It smells like masala chai.

“Yes. Is that so difficult to believe?”

You nod. “...yes.”

His face darkens. “...I… I was tired. Angry. I didn’t want to believe what I was seeing when I looked at your soul. You're so kind. So… giving. You were always so nice to me, even when you had no reason to be. To think that someone like that could feel so selflessly about someone... about me. I… I hadn't felt kindness in so long and it… it made me scared and I....”

You can’t help it. You begin to cry. You can’t stop it. It’s him, it’s him and an hour ago you were deciding what movie you wanted to watch and now you’re here and you don’t know how to deal with this-

“...I didn’t mean to upset you-”

The couch shifts under you. He’s sitting next to you, eyes wide, hands hovering over you like you might bite him if he tries. You don’t even hesitate, you throw your body towards him and crush him in the biggest hug you can manage.

“Unf-”

“Thank you.” Your sobs are muffled in his shirt. “Thank you for saving me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You can feel the smile in his voice when he responds.

“No. Thank you.”

The strangeness buzzes around you, but it’s not angry and fierce like the last time you touched him. It’s soothing and warm, like wrapping yourself in a blanket fresh out of the dryer.

You pull yourself upright so your face is level with his. He can sense the emotions arcing through your head, but what is he feeling, you wonder? His lips quirk upwards, like he heard that question-

Then he must know what you want to do, what you  _ need _ so desperately to do. His eyebrow raises, like he's encouraging you. Even so, you decide to ask. Just to be sure.

“Can I kiss you?”

His human form slips away, as if he’s answering some question you haven’t thought to ask yet. The person that sits in front of you is the one you remember so clearly. The one who saved your life. The one who you…

“Yes. You can.”

You lean forward, slowly, carefully. You have to be careful of his sharp, pointed teeth when you press your lips to his. 

The strangeness pulses down your spine like a bolt of lightning. You gasp, moaning into his mouth. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and it leaves you gasping and boneless but the moment it leaves you wanting  _ more- _

“More, huh? So selfish.”

If it was anyone but him saying that you would slap him, but you both know he’s right so fuck it you’re kissing him again. Another wave of the strangeness washes over you and you’re in fucking heaven...

It’s dark when you finally part. You ask him what his name is. He whispers it in your ear...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND ITS DONE. Hope y'all enjoyed! Someday I'll edit it, but for now it exists in all of its 'glory'. Thanks for all the views and kudos and everything! Hope you wonderful people have a great day and all of that!


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